Only Mine by Elizabeth Lowell Page A

he wasn’t touching her. He was simply watching her.
    With an effort, she forced herself to speak. “What verses do you know that I don’t?”
    “Many.”
    “Wonderful. Teach me and we’ll sing together.”
    Wolfe compressed his lips against the smile that threatened to overwhelm his efforts at self-control. “The verses I know would horrify you.”
    “Why?”
    “They deal with Adam’s staff, among other things,” Wolfe said blandly.
    Jessica looked blank. “Why would talk of Adam’s staff horrify me?”
    “It’s also celebrated as a flea shooter, a hoe, a fishing rod, a drummer’s stick, a Roman candle, a branding iron, a dagger, a sword, a dowsing rod, a ramrod, a pistol and, lately, a repeating rifle.”Wolfe’s voice vibrated with suppressed laughter. “There are other names as well. Many names. And for each one, a verse to the tune you were singing.”
    Jessica frowned. “A tool for many purposes, is that it?”
    Wolfe gave up the fight, tipped back his head, and laughed without restraint.
    The rich, masculine sounds made Jessica feel as though she was standing close to a fire. Some of the tension seeped slowly from her. The feeling of relief was almost dizzying, telling her how much she had feared that she would never be able to make her husband smile again.
    “As you say,” Wolfe managed finally, “an allpurpose tool. Fortunately, Eve was equally well endowed.”
    Jessica blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
    “Adam’s staff had its complement in Eve.”
    “I don’t understand.”
    “Eve had a fertile field for Adam to till,” Wolfe said gravely, “a shadowed pool for him to fish, a deep well to be discovered by his dowsing rod, a supple sheath for his knife or sword to lie within…ah, the sunrise of understanding shines pinkly on your face.”
    Blushing, Jessica covered her mouth with her hands, but couldn’t prevent the sound of her giggles from escaping. Her laughter was contagious, setting off Wolfe again. Soon Jessica was laughing so hard she had to hang onto the cupboard door or fall.
    Wolfe was little better off. It had been years since he had teased Jessica until they were both weak with laughter. He hadn’t known how much life had lacked until this moment.
    “I’ve missed you,” he admitted before he could think better of it.
    “Not as much as I missed you.”
    “Did you?”
    “Oh, yes,” she said, blotting tears of laughter from her eyes. “When you’re with me, I never hear the wind.”
    “What an odd reason to miss someone.”
    “Elves are odd creatures.”
    Wolfe looked at the row of open cupboard doors. “Yes, they are. Why were you going through the cupboards, elf?”
    “I was looking for your coffeepot.”
    “It’s on the stove.”
    Jessica straightened and stared at the pot-bellied stove. She saw nothing but a battered container that looked like a tall, rather narrow pot. It was wider at the bottom than the top and had a slight flare on the rim. A wire handle stood upright above the lid.
    “A coffeepot on the stove,” she said neutrally.
    “Umm.”
    The sound Wolfe made was rather like that of a very large, contented cat. Jessica glanced at him from beneath thick auburn lashes.
    “How does this coffeepot work?”
    “Quite simply. You fill the pot with water, put it on the stove to boil, add coffee grounds, boil for a time, and then add cold water to settle the grounds.”
    “Ah,” she breathed, brightening. “Simple indeed.”
    Jessica went to the stove, took the lid off the pot, and looked around for a pitcher of water. There was none.
    “Water comes from pumps,” Wolfe said. “Youdo know what a pump looks like, don’t you?”
    “You’re teasing me.”
    “I’m not sure. Elves are unpredictable creatures. It’s difficult to be certain what they know.”
    Jessica hadn’t ever used a pump, but she certainly had seen one used. She went to the sink, set the pot down beneath the pump’s spout, and picked up the long iron pump handle. She had to